the red cross girl-第22章

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arisen　a　fearful　doubt。　Suppose　his　letter　was　not　quite　honest？
He　said　that　he　would　always　love　her；　but　how　could　she　now　know
that？　Why　might　not　this　letter　be　only　his　way　of　withdrawing
from　a　position　which　he　wished　to　abandon；　from　which；　perhaps；
he　was　even　glad　to　escape？　Were　this　true；　and　she　wrote　and
said　all　those　things　that　were　in　her　heart；　that　now　she　knew
were　true；　might　she　not　hold　him　to　her　against　his　will？　The
love　that　once　he　had　for　her　might　no　longer　exist；　and　if；　in
her　turn；　she　told　him　she　loved　him　and　had　always　loved　him；
might　he　not　in　some　mistaken　spirit　of　chivalry　feel　it　was　his
duty　to　pretend　to　care？　Her　cheeks　burned　at　the　thought。　It　was
intolerable。　She　could　not　write　that　letter。　And　as　day
succeeded　day；　to　do　so　became　more　difficult。　And　so　she　never
wrote　and　was　very　unhappy。　And　Latimer　was　very　unhappy。　But　he
had　his　work；　and　Helen　had　none；　and　for　her　life　became　a　game
of　putting　little　things　together；　like　a　picture　puzzle；　an　hour
here　and　an　hour　there；　to　make　up　each　day。　It　was　a　dreary
game。

From　time　to　time　she　heard　of　him　through　the　newspapers。　For；
in　his　own　State；　he　was　an　〃Insurgent〃　making　a　fight；　the
outcome　of　which　was　expected　to　show　what　might　follow
throughout　the　entire　West。　When　he　won　his　fight　much　more　was
written　about　him；　and　he　became　a　national　figure。　In　his　own
State　the　people　hailed　him　as　the　next　governor；　promised　him　a
seat　in　the　Senate。　To　Helen　this　seemed　to　take　him　further　out
of　her　life。　She　wondered　if　now　she　held　a　place　even　in　his
thoughts。

At　Fair　Harbor　the　two　hundred　and　forty…nine　used　to　joke　with
her　about　her　politician。　Then　they　considered　Latimer　of
importance　only　because　Helen　liked　him。　Now　they　discussed　him
impersonally　and　over　her　head；　as　though　she　were　not　present；
as　a　power；　an　influence；　as　the　leader　and　exponent　of　a　new
idea。　They　seemed　to　think　she　no　longer　could　pretend　to　any
peculiar　claim　upon　him；　that　now　he　belonged　to　all　of　them。

Older　men　would　say　to　her：　〃I　hear　you　know　Latimer？　What　sort
of　a　man　is　he？〃

Helen　would　not　know　what　to　tell　them。　She　could　not　say　he　was
a　man　who　sat　with　his　back　to　a　pine…tree；　reading　from　a　book
of　verse；　or　halting　to　devour　her　with　humble；　entreating　eyes。

She　went　South　for　the　winter；　the　doctors　deciding　she　was　run
down　and　needed　the　change。　And　with　an　unhappy　laugh　at　her　own
expense　she　agreed　in　their　diagnosis。　She　was　indifferent　as　to
where　they　sent　her；　for　she　knew　wherever　she　went　she　must
still　force　herself　to　go　on　putting　one　hour　on　top　of　another；
until　she　had　built　up　the　inexorable　and　necessary　twenty…four。

When　she　returned　winter　was　departing；　but　reluctantly；　and
returning　unexpectedly　to　cover　the　world　with　snow；　to　eclipse
the　thin　spring　sunshine　with　cheerless　clouds。　Helen　took
herself　seriously　to　task。　She　assured　herself　it　was　weak…minded
to　rebel。　The　summer　was　coming　and　Fair　Harbor　with　all　its　old
delights　was　before　her。　She　compelled　herself　to　take　heart；　to
accept　the　fact　that；　after　all；　the　world　is　a　pretty　good
place；　and　that　to　think　only　of　the　past；　to　live　only　on
memories　and　regrets；　was　not　only　cowardly　and　selfish；　but；　as
Latimer　had　already　decided；　did　not　tend　toward　efficiency。

Among　the　other　rules　of　conduct　that　she　imposed　upon　herself
was　not　to　think　of　Latimer。　At　least；　not　during　the　waking
hours。　Should　she；　as　it　sometimes　happened；　dream　of　himshould
she　imagine　they　were　again　seated　among　the　pines；　riding　across
the　downs；　or　racing　at　fifty　miles　an　hour　through　country
roads；　with　the　stone　fences　flying　past；　with　the　wind　and　the
sun　in　their　eyes；　and　in　their　hearts　happiness　and
contentthat　would　not　be　breaking　her　rule。　If　she　dreamed　of
him；　she　could　not　be　held　responsible。　She　could　only　be
grateful。

And　then；　just　as　she　had　banished　him　entirely　from　her　mind；　he
came　East。　Not　as　once　he　had　planned　to　come；　only　to　see　her；
but　with　a　blare　of　trumpets；　at　the　command　of　many　citizens；　as
the　guest　of　three　cities。　He　was　to　speak　at　public　meetings；　to
confer　with　party　leaders；　to　carry　the　war　into　the　enemy's
country。　He　was　due　to　speak　in　Boston　at　Faneuil　Hall　on　the
first　of　May；　and　that　same　night　to　leave　for　the　West；　and
three　days　before　his　coming　Helen　fled　from　the　city。　He　had
spoken　his　message　to　Philadelphia；　he　had　spoken　to　New　York；
and　for　a　week　the　papers　had　spoken　only　of　him。　And　for　that
week；　from　the　sight　of　his　printed　name；　from　sketches　of　him
exhorting　cheering　mobs；　from　snap…shots　of　him　on　rear　platforms
leaning　forward　to　grasp　eager　hands；　Helen　had　shut　her　eyes。
And　that　during　the　time　he　was　actually　in　Boston　she　might
spare　herself　further　and　more　direct　attacks　upon　her　feelings
she　escaped　to　Fair　Harbor；　there　to　remain　until；　on　the　first
of　May　at　midnight；　he　again　would　pass　out　of　her　life；　maybe
forever。　No　one　saw　in　her　going　any　significance。　Spring　had
come；　and　in　preparation　for　the　summer　season　the　house　at　Fair
Harbor　must　be　opened　and　set　in　order；　and　the　presence　there　of
some　one　of　the　Page　family　was　easily　explained。

She　made　the　three　hours'　run　to　Fair　Harbor　in　her　car；　driving
it　herself；　and　as　the　familiar　landfalls　fell　into　place；　she
doubted　if　it　would　not　have　been　wiser　had　she　stayed　away。　For
she　found　that　the　memories　of　more　than　twenty　summers　at　Fair
Harbor　had　been　wiped　out　by　those　of　one　summer；　by　those　of　one
man。　The　natives　greeted　her　joyously：　the　boatmen；　the
fishermen；　her　own　grooms　and　gardeners；　the　village　postmaster；
the　oldest　inhabitant。　They　welcomed　her　as　though　they　were　her
vassals　and　she　their　queen。　But　it　was　the　one　man　she　had
exiled　from　Fair　Harbor　who　at　every　turn　wrung　her　heart　and
caused　her　throat　to　tighten。　She　passed　the　cottage　where　he　had
lodged；　and　hundreds　of　years　seemed　to　have　gone　since　she　used
to　wait　for　him　in　the　street；　blowing　noisily　on　her　automobile
horn；　calling　derisively　to　his　open　windows。　Wherever　she　turned
Fair　Harbor　spoke　of　him。　The　golf…links；　the　bathing　beach；　the
ugly　corner　in　the　main　street　where　he　always　reminded　her　that
it　was　better　to　go　slow　for　ten　seconds　than　to　remain　a　long
time　dead；　the　old　house　on　the　stone　wharf　where　the　schooners
made　fast；　which　he　intended　to　borrow　for　his　honeymoon；　the
wooden　trough　where　they　always　drew　rein　to　water　the　ponies；
the　pond　into　which　he　had　waded　to　bring　her　lilies。

On　the　second　day　of　her　stay　she　found　she　was　passing　these
places　purposely；　that　to　do　so　she　was　going　out　of　her　way。
They　no　longer　distressed　her；　but　gave　her　a　strange　comfort。
They　were　old　friends；　who　had　known　her　in　the　days　when　she　was
rich　in　happiness。

But　the　secret　hiding…placetheir　very　own　hiding…place；　the
opening　among　the　pines　that　overhung　the　jumble　of　rocks　and　the
seashe　could　not　bring　herself　to　visit。　And　then；　on　the
afternoon　of　the　third　day　when　she　was　driving　alone　toward　the
lighthouse；　her　pony；　of　his　own　accord；　from　force　of　habit；
turned　smartly　into　the　wood　road。　And　again　from　force　of　habit；
before　he　reached　the　spot　that　overlooked　the　sea；　he　came　to　a
full　stop。　There　was　no　need　to　make　him　fast。　For　hours；
stretching　over　many　summer　days；　he　had　stood　under　those　same
branches　patiently　waiting。

On　foot；　her　heart　beating　tremulously；　stepping　reverently；　as
one　enters　the　aisle　of　some　dim　cathedral；　Helen　advanced　into
the　sacred　circle。　And　then　she　stood　quite　still。　What　she　had
expected　to　find　there　she　could　not　have　told；　but　it　was　gone。
The　place　was　unknown　to　her。　She　saw　an　opening　among　gloomy
pines；　empty；　silent；　unreal。　No　haunted　house；　no　barren　moor；
no　neglected　graveyard　ever　spoke　more　poignantly；　more
mournfully；　with　such　utter　hopelessness。　There　was　no　sign　of
his　or　of　her　former　presence。　Across　the　open　space　something
had　passed　its　hand；　and　it　had　changed。　What　had　been　a
trysting…place；　a　bower；　a　nest；　had　become　a　tomb。　A　tomb；　she
felt；　for　something　that　once　had　been　brave；　fine；　and
beautiful；　but　which　now　was　dead。　She　had　but　one　desire；　to
escape　from　the　place；　to　put　it　away　from　her　forever；　to
remember　it；　not　as　she　now　found　it；　but　as　first　she　had
remembered　it；　and　as　now　she　must　always　remember　It。　She　turned
softly　on　tiptoe　as　one　who　has　intruded　on　a　shrine。

But　before　she　could　escape　there　came　from　the　sea　a　sudden　gust
of　wind　that　caught　her　by　the　skirts　and　drew　her　back；　that　set
the　branches　tossing　and　swept　the　dead　leaves　racing　about　her
ankles。　And　at　the　same　instant　from　just　above　her　head　there
beat　upon　the　air　a　violent；　joyous　tattooa　sound　that　was
neither　of　the　sea　nor　of　the　woods；　a　creaking；　swiftly　repeated
sound；　like　the　flutter　of　caged　wings。

Helen　turned　in　alarm　and　raised　her　eyesand　beheld　the
sailorman。

Tossing　his　arms　in　a　delirious　welcome；　waltzing　in　a　frenzy　of
joy；　calling　her　back　to　him　with　wild　beckonings；　she　saw　him
smiling　down　at　her　with　the　same　radiant；　beseeching；
worshipping　smile。　In　Helen's　ears　Latimer's　commands　to　the
sailorman　rang　as　clearly　as　though　Latimer　stood　before　her　and
had　just　spoken。　Only　now　they　were　no　longer　a　jest；　they　were　a
vow；　a　promise；　an　oath　of　allegiance　that　brought　to　her　peace；
and　pride；　and　happiness。

〃So　long　as　I　love　this　beautiful　lady；〃　had　been　his　foolish
words；　〃you　will　guard　this　place。　It　is　a　life　sentence！〃

With　one　hand　Helen　Page　dragged　down　the　branch　on　which　the
sailorman　stood；　with　the　other　she　snatched　him　from　his　post　of
duty。　With　a　joyous　laugh　that　was　a　sob；　she　clutched　the
sailorman　in　both　her　hands　and　kissed　the　beseeching；
worshipping　smile。

An　hour　later　her　car；　on　its　way　to　Boston；　passed　through　Fair
Harbor　at　a　rate　of　speed　that　caused　her　chauffeur　to　pray
between　his　chattering　teeth　that　the　first　policeman　would　save
their　lives　by　landing　them　in　jail。

At　the　wheel；　her　shoulders　thrown　forward；　her　eyes　searching
the　dark　places　beyond　the　reach　of　the　leaping　head…lights　Helen
Page　raced　against　time；　against　the　minions　of　the　law；　against
sudden　death；　to　beat　the　midnight　train　out　of　Boston；　to　assure
the　man　she　loved　of　the　one　thing　that　could　make　his　life　worth
living。

And　close　against　her　heart；　buttoned　tight　beneath　her
great…coat；　the　sailorman　smiled　in　the　darkness；　his　long　watch
over；　his　soul　at　peace；　his　duty　well　performed。

　

Chapter　6。　THE　MIND　READER

When　Philip　Endicott　was　at　Harvard；　he　wrote　stories　of
undergraduate　life　suggested　by　things　that　had　happened　to
himself　and　to　men　he　knew。　Under　the　title　of　〃Tales　of　the
Yard〃　they　were　collected　in　book　form；　and　sold　surprisingly
well。　After　he　was　graduated　and　became　a　reporter　on　the　New
York　Republic；　he　wrote　more　stories；　in　each　of　which　a　reporter
was　the　hero；　and　in　which　his　failure　or　success　in　gathering
news　supplied　the　plot。　These　appeared　first　in　the　magazines；
and　later　in　a　book　under　the　title　of　〃Tales　of　the　Streets。〃
They　also　were　well　received。

Then